I Love You
by Worriors1
Summary: Minor AU.// "And it felt like nothing could be said, and nothing could be done, to make it any better. To make it go away. And that hurt."


Hello! I'm sorry for allowing my account to collect dust everyone! I don't know how long I'll be back, but have this short (but very depressing, from what a good friend has said.) story. The story is rated K+, in my opinion, however it may or may not cross into a little bit older territory, so please go a little with caution.

**Theme: **Guilt and sorrow, respect and reverence, and love that relies on care.

**Characters: **Suzaku Kururugi, Rolo Haliburton, Euphemia li Britannia (Mentioned), Lelouch vi Britannia (Mentioned).

**Couples: **Suzaku and Euphemia, Lelouch and Suzaku, 'Rolo and Suzaku'.

**Inspiration: **The downpour where I live, and the very sweet, lovely song "Counting On Me" by Howie Day, as well as "Here (In Your Arms)" by Hello Goodbye.

* * *

Rolo is a sentimental person.

In the rare times he chooses to do something, chooses to give a gift, chooses to care, chooses to be…Who he wished he could be…

He thinks on what to do.

He thinks Suzaku is the same way; or else the two wouldn't be sitting in the old coffee shop that overlooked the main street, together, right now.

Orchid eyes glance wearily at the dim glow of the laptop in front of him, colorful flowers splashed on the screen, carefully typed meanings under the pictures.

Suzaku had said flowers placed without meaning would be cruel to someone so important to them.

Rolo agreed.

Quietly suffering, the Japanese's deep mint eyes closed as he took a long drink from the sweet hot chocolate.

When he opened them again, lightning flashed outside of the window, and the rain poured even harder.

_And crimson fell down the mask, a mess of rose petals, all falling, spiraling, chaos before his eyes. And nothing he could do would stop it. _

There was a dull 'clink' as Suzaku set the mug back down, raising an eyebrow at the younger boy in front of him – the look on his face showed a spark of revelation.

The laptop spun on the glass sheet over the dark oak table.

"…These."

* * *

"Hmm…"

The florist- a sweet young woman with pale hair, light blue eyes, thought carefully.

"You're positive you want these?" The question was gentle, like she knew.

"Yes, miss." Suzaku said, a little numbly as he tried to look look into her eyes. So much like someone else's… So much like someone who deserved more… So many memories…

_The ruins of memories, all like decaying and gray flowers. Her fragile hands clasped in almost silent prayer. Sweet peas lying all around her, all of them, "goodbye, goodbye. Farewell, I had a good time."_

She smiled, softly, as she pressed the cost into the register before stepping from behind the counter and collecting the mix of lavender purple, sunset orange, blush pink_, _gallant red, and pearl white.

Rolo gave a short glance to Suzaku, still bundled in his coat. The depth in his eyes showed gratitude.

And Suzaku shared the same feeling, but he felt, inside, within his heart, that it would never be enough. There was so much he had to repay, such a weight that would never be removed…

"Alrighty then, here you go!" The florist chimed, knocking the Japanese back into the real world. "Thanks for your business, I appreciate it…" she paused, "I think who ever gets those will like them. Just a feeling."

The same smile, and again, so familiar…

* * *

The ground sunk underneath them as they carried the bundle of zinnias and marigolds.

Suzaku didn't want to see sweet peas again. Not after what happened to his beloved.

The umbrella that Suzaku was carrying added to the weight in his soul. It didn't feel much like he deserved the cover. The rain poured all around him, and he just wanted to fall down and stare up into the cloudy sky, watching the water pool and ripple. The grass his bed, the short breezes his blanket…

Rolo didn't know what Suzaku was feeling, but he hoped that his presence might ease his pain.

He didn't feel upset, or bitter at Suzaku. There was nothing to be done if that's how it had to be…But he was frightened at the thought of being alone, and felt he had to seek someone out.

"…Suzaku?" he said quietly, turning around at the man who was staring up at the sky.

The umbrella was abandoned on the ground, and the torrential downpour was hugging both of them.

Furrowing his eyebrows and taking a few weary steps to close the gap, he reached out to take Suzaku's hand, shifting the flowers in his arms, and the action of his cut, but soft hand touching the knight's rough, work-hardened ones, startled him.

The two stared and silence hung, the sound of rain utterly forgotten in the roar.

"…It's…"

"I know."

"…Mmn."

* * *

The grave was almost entirely unmarked. Black stone made the little white lamb that sat on top even more noticeable, and that was the marker.

There was no name, date of birth, date of death, just a lone quote that sat almost entirely forgotten in the otherwise flawless stone.

"_Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled."_

A small laugh came from Suzaku, it was almost bitter.

Rolo's grip tightened a little and he pulled closer to the taller teenager, passing the flowers to him.

He sat the flowers down a little hastily. The reverence was between them both, and the man they honored knew they meant well.

God, it hurt.

So much.

"Suzaku…"

There was no reply. A lone bird chirped some where, calling out for a song, someone to sing with.

"Suzaku… It's…" Rolo looked down, "… He loved you."

"…I know, Rolo."

"You'll be okay, won't you?" the boy whispered, looking at the grave before returning his gaze to Suzaku, and again, their eyes locked and it felt like a mess of sorrow fell between them.

And it felt like nothing could be said, and nothing could be done, to make it any better. To make it go away.

And that hurt.

"…He loved you."

Suzaku shook his head some, hair sticking to his forehead from the rain, his lips twitching as he tried to give one bittersweet smile, his hands shaking - not from cold, but from the sheer guilt of what had happened.

His eyes tightly shut as the tears finally fell, and two smaller hands pressed his own together.

Orchid and mint.

Love and virtue.

God, he missed the violet eyes that betrayed modesty.

And it was all closing in. His head bowed, and he felt another forehead press against his.

And finally managed to smile, because the poor boy wanted to help him.

"I love you."


End file.
